


Here With Me

by Insomnia_Productions



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga)
Genre: But fluffy ending, M/M, Reunion Fic, and sad, at all, kind of introspective about how shion coped, kinda sad, nezumi has literally not changed, shion is pissed off, sorry I just needed this, yes I know so original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion does not think about Nezumi in the day, or the afternoon. <br/>He does not think about him in the evening, when he eats dinner with his mother and Lili. </p>
<p>But in the nights... with the window wide open... that self-control begins to slip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here With Me

_ “Don’t want your picture on my cellphone… I want you here with me _

_ Don’t need your memory in my head, no… I want you here with me” _

— ‘Here with Me’, The Killers —

* * *

__

_ Reunion will come.  _

.

Shion watches him walk away, and Tsukiyo watches with him, perched comfortingly on his shoulder.

.

_ Reunion will come.  _

.

A year passes, and the world begins to settle. West Block and No. 6 work together to tend to the remains of their shattered cities, all under the guidance of the restructural committee. Shion is part of this committee, and his days in No. 6 are filled with blueprints and documents with dotted lines at the bottom. His free afternoons are spent in the West Block, diligently washing Inukashi’s dogs. The puppies have grown, but they haven’t matured at all. If anything, they’re even harder to deal with now than they were when he first met them. They calm down around Little Shion, though—Inukashi says the new one is an improvement on the old, and then splashes Shion with the soapy water and tells him to stop being jealous and get on with his work. And he does. 

Shion does not think about Nezumi during the morning, or the afternoon. He does not think about him when he eats with his mother and Lili, and reminisces about Safu, and their easy lives before. They don’t miss that life much, though. With the wall completely demolished, sunsets last longer in the city. They’ve seen more than 365 of them, now, but even so, they make sure to catch them every evening. They’re beautiful, but even they can’t compare to the ones he has seen while walking home from the market with Nezumi. Once, in the early weeks of Nezumi’s departure, Shion caught himself thinking about it. He squashed that thought down quickly. He does not think about his friend (more than friend?) in the evenings. 

In the night, however, when he lies awake in his old bedroom, the floor littered with Nezumi’s books, the self-control of the day begins to slip away. When the moon shines in through a large window that is always, always open, falling on the pillow on the floor beside a worn copy of  _ Hamlet _ , illuminating the three mice asleep on the softest surface they’ve ever known… at this time, when the world is quiet and peaceful, Shion thinks about Nezumi, and he tastes salt as the tears begin to fall. 

If Nezumi were here, he would chide Shion, telling him not to shed tears for other people. 

But Nezumi isn’t here, so Shion continues to cry without shame. A small part of him feels smug, defiant—he can cry all he wants, and the other boy will never be able to laugh at him or scold him. 

But most parts of him just wish Nezumi were here to do just that. 

.

Shion hates the night. 

.

It is the seventh of September, and it is windy outside. The trees are almost completely bent over, only just managing to stay rooted. There is no rain. 

Little Shion is three years old now, and in the two years since the collapse of the wall, he has grown into a healthy toddler. Of course he has—he has Inukashi, and all their dogs, watching over him. And Inukashi complains about it, every time they see Shion, but the white-haired boy doesn’t miss the warmth in their eyes, or the soft smile on their face when they hold him. It’s the same look his mother has when she holds Lili, gently rocking the child back and forth, comforting her on the darkest nights with cherry cakes and stories of the future. 

Shion envies them. He wishes he had something to hold, to treasure, to protect. 

Outside, the wind is still blowing ferociously. Shion looks at his desk. It’s covered in important papers he must have ready by tomorrow. They’re very  _ light _ papers too; he had to get rid of the fan in his office very early on, because it would blow the papers every which way. He has an AC now. 

Shion puts his pen down and throws open the window, spreading his arms and closing his eyes. He lets the wind whip around him, cooling his body to the core. His papers are all over the room, now, but none have gotten out, so he doesn’t care. For a moment, he feels an overwhelming urge to scream. It wouldn’t be the first time. He walks out onto the balcony and grips the railing. His mouth opens. 

And closes. 

Shion turns and walks back inside in silence. He gathers his papers and sits back down at his desk. He finishes them early, but does not go to dinner with Karan and Lili tonight. Instead, he sits on his bed and gazes out the window as the sun sets, as the sky darkens and the moon glows brighter than the explosion that brought about this new world and begins to inch across its inky black backdrop.   
He does not sleep. 

On his bedside table, the clock changes from 23:59 to 24:00. The digital writing in the corner changes from  _ September 7th  _ to  _ September 8th.  _

The window remains open and clear, giving the same, unobstructed view of the city below. The wind begins to die down, and the air is still dry. 

Shion falls onto his side, his pillows cushioning him as he continues to gaze unblinkingly forward. 

_ It’s the rain,  _ Shion tells himself, clenching his eyes shut and trying in vain to will away the prickly warmth behind his eyelids.  _ It’s because it didn’t rain.  _

.

“The smell of blood is still here,” Shion recites to an enraptured audience of exactly three small mice. “All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. O—” 

“Your inflection is pathetic as ever, huh, Shion?” 

Shion freezes, refusing to look up from his book.  _ No…  _

“But you’ve grown, haven’t you?” The familiar voice continues fondly. “Is your hair getting  _ whiter _ ?” 

Shion closes his eyes. “Go away.” 

The voice feigns offense. “Why?” 

“Because I’m sick of you,” Shion mutters, slamming the book shut and willing his voice not to break. The mice back away. “I’m sick of you coming here… coming back to me… and then me waking up and realizing it was just a dream. So just go away. I don’t want to see you.” 

There is a thick, heavy pause, and then the voice scoffs. “A dream? Don’t be an idiot, Shion. I’m not a dream. Quite the opposite, in fact, if you’ll recall.” 

And Shion has to admit that this does feel a little different from the usual.   
In his dreams, Nezumi always crouches by his side and wipes his tears, before gathering him into his arms, holding him close and promising never to leave him again. 

Insulting him and calling him an idiot… well. That  _ does  _ seem a bit more realistic. 

Shion opens his eyes. 

Nezumi is standing before him, lit up by the lights of the room and the moonlight coming in from the open window, wearing that old scarf and that old smirk. Shion stands and takes a few steps, until they’re just a foot apart. Nezumi grins. 

“Miss me?” 

Shion doesn’t even blink, his hand curling into a fist as he reels back and punches the other in the face. 

“Gah! What the fuck, Shion?!” 

“ _ That’s your punishment _ ,” Shion snaps, arms folded as he glares down at Nezumi, “for  _ abandoning  _ me.” Nezumi opens his mouth to protest, but Shion falls to his knees beside him and pulls him into a tight hug, burying his face in Nezumi’s shoulder. 

“...Shion?” 

“This is your reward,” he mumbles into the other’s jacket, “for coming back.” 

.

Sometimes Shion wakes up in the middle of the night and Nezumi is not there. On these nights, terror seizes him, freezing his whole body until he can do nothing but sit there in the darkness, trembling and whispering his lover’s name, over and over again. He sits there, sometimes for seconds, sometimes for long, long minutes, before the sound of feet appears in the room and Nezumi sinks onto the bed by his side. 

Now, when Nezumi holds him and strokes his hair and promises that he’s not going anywhere, Shion knows it’s not a dream. It’s not a false vow, a lie to be uncovered the moment the sun rises. 

Shion still goes to work in the daytime, negotiating arrangements and organizing committees, but when the chatter of voices around him begins to fade, when the piles of paper on his desk grow smaller, and he has a moment to breathe, he thinks about Nezumi, and he smiles. 

He still goes to Inukashi’s place most afternoons, but now he washes the dogs to the pleasant background noise of Inukashi bickering with Nezumi over whether or not dogs count as adequate babysitters. 

He still eats dinner with Karan and Lili on their balcony, bathed in the glow of the sunset, but now Karan prepares meals for four, rather than three, and almost always has a slice of cherry cake ready. 

The only real change is his nights. 

Shion doesn’t stay up late thinking about Nezumi in the night. Now he falls asleep in seconds, curled up in Nezumi’s arms, and the happy tears in his eyes trickles down his cheeks to rest against lips turned up in a contented smile. 

.

Shion loves the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> is this too much to ask 
> 
> *sobs in pillow*


End file.
